


Smite Response

by battle_cat



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: Don't startle an angel a few days after the almost-end-of-the-world.





	Smite Response

They are taking a walk in the park, at twilight, because it’s something to do and they both stubbornly, silently keep finding reasons to be in the same space in the days after Armageddidn’t. Aziraphale can hang round the bookshop all day, but Crowley eventually gets restless and has to move. And so they take walks.

It happens so fast. There’s a shape, a sudden movement that Crowley registers as _**DANGER**_ , and a split second to recognize the rotten-sweet scent of demon. There’s no time to run, to fight, not even time to snap his fingers to stop time, but somehow time to think _Knew it was too good to be true—_

The air splits open with a titanic crash. There is no lightning, but his ears pop and the park suddenly smells strongly of ozone. Whoever or whatever had run at them was gone, replaced by a charred spot on the grass that heals itself over as he watches.

He looks over at Aziraphale in shock and registers two things. The first is that nothing has changed about the angel’s posture or appearance, except his eyes, which bear the most chilling look of stone-cold fury Crowley has ever seen. The second is that Aziraphale has grabbed on to Crowley’s wrist with an iron grip.

“Angel?” Crowley says quietly. “Did a demon just try to kill us?”

“You, specifically,” Aziraphale replies, still staring at the spot where the grass isn’t charred anymore.

“Did you kill them?”

“I…sent them somewhere,” Aziraphale says in a tone that suggests he is not entirely convinced that is what happened.

“Where?”

“...Away.”

“What do you think we should do now?”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath, even though he doesn't need to. “I think we should keep walking as if nothing happened.”

And so they do, with one small change. Instead of returning to their status quo of close-but-not-touching, Aziraphale releases Crowley’s wrist and twines their fingers together instead. For numerous reasons, Crowley decides this is not to be remarked upon.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says after a few minutes of silence. “Did you just _smite_ someone for me?”

Aziraphale sighs. “I don’t _like_ doing it. Usually I just try to send them somewhere very far away. But…that one startled me. Still a bit on edge, I guess.”

“Well. Guess it was mad to think _someone_ wouldn’t try.”

Aziraphale shoots him a furtive glance. They are still holding hands. They are still very carefully not talking about holding hands. “Actually,” Aziraphale says, “that was number five, between the two of us.”

“Just since the Apocalmost?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll be Damned.” He had thought he was being careful, but he’d been caught unawares before.

“I’ve been…taking care of them.” Aziraphale has managed to erase the look of divine retribution from his face, and no one would be any bit the wiser, except for the fact that the air around him crackles with enough latent power to make the hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stand on end.

“My old friends, or yours?” Crowley asks.

“Both. Although, to be fair, a few more of yours.”

“Mm. Not always the brightest, my lot.”

“Rogue operatives, I am reasonably sure. Looking to score a few points with their higher-ups or lower-downs. If these had been official visits, I think we would have heard more about me…disinviting them.”

“So…” Crowley says slowly. “You’ve been protecting me?”

“I’ve been protecting _us._ ” His face is kind and sweet and soft again, and only the force he puts behind the last word gives anything else away.

Crowley, who needs to make a joke to stop having so many feelings about being under the unwavering, ever-vigilant and possibly murderous protection of an angel, says: “So does this make you my guardian angel?”

Aziraphale, who needs to make a joke to keep his righteous fury from setting the nearest tree on fire, says: “Don’t let it go to your head.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://fuckyeahisawthat.tumblr.com)


End file.
